Category Archives: change

What do you want?

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The gift-giving holidays are wrapping up (pun!), the new year is approaching. What do you want is a common question for this season, and one that’s been on my mind.

Stuff is easy, at least the smaller every-day items. I can purchase anything I truly want for myself. It was nice to have some Barnes and Noble gift cards on my account for a while; buying ebooks took less decision making, but truly, it doesn’t matter. If I want it, I can buy it. If I’m not sure I want it that much, I can investigate the options in the library. Stuff is hard if your goal is to have less of it. Acquisition is so much easier than decluttering.

It’s the bigger questions of who I want to be and how I want to live my life that weigh more heavily. I’ve been reading the Power of Habit by Charles Duggin (I think I’ve read this before). It reminds me that when we are in major life transitions, those are the easiest times for our habits to change — for good or ill. So be mindful and pay attention to how you line yourself up.

I hope to move into a more permanent residence this next year, and that’s one subject of my musings. I have learned that I would rather be out doing things, or even in doing things, but cleaning and yard work are not very high on the list of things I enjoy doing. I would like to minimize my investments here. A place that is easier to take care of, enough money left to pay for help, are ways to accomplish this. I can hire help where I am, but I am not so sure that I can find a lower maintenance place than what I had before.

I also need to work on my habits, as mentioned above. I don’t have a good way to deal with all the paperwork that comes into my place through the mail; it stacks up. Finding a better habit and way with this would help. I am not awful with dishes (my current place does not have a dishwasher), though undoubtedly I could improve. I think my biggest problem is that there are many times when I get home, or on weekends, that I just collapse into a chair, doing nothing productive. Perhaps, as Duggin suggests, my willpower is worn out for the time being. Perhaps I need to work on my willpower muscle to grow some more. I don’t like those long unproductive stretches.

I know I want to live in a place that has clean, uncluttered lines. Places to work that are ready for work when you need them. I want a certain Zen-chic, that leads towards peaceful thoughts and a peaceful mind. I am sure I will have to fight against even my tendencies towards acquisition and clutter. I am sure I need work on the paperwork demons.

I hope I can use my transition to create better habits. As with the ε>0 exercise plan, one step at a time. I hope I am mindful and aware of what’s going so that I can actually decide what changes to make, rather than having them made for me by default.

And still struggling

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I think of the teaching award that I won last spring, and I think the universe must be laughing right now to see me struggle with my graduate class.

Homework is due at noon. Homework is due at noon because a few weeks ago, when homework was due at midnight, I had a student demand that I make time help him that afternoon. I didn’t have office hours scheduled, and I did have several other things that I had to do. I was angry enough to let my anger show. That’s not a productive situation.

One student has been having a hard time getting his homework in on time; even with a midnight deadline, things would come in at 3 am. I warned him in a comment on his last assignment that this should not continue. Guess who has his computer open in class today? “What are you doing with the computer?” I asked. “Working on my homework,” he replied. “No you aren’t. You need to pay attention in class. Put it away,” I said. He did (fortunately). I turned back to my lesson and got a few more sentences out. Then I sat down to talk about what just happened. And the related issue that none of my four students takes notes in class, and there have been several times when they missed something done in class that was relevant to homework or exam material. I don’t think I won that battle.

After class guess who asked for an extension on the homework. My short answer was “NO.” “Do you know why the answer is no?” The student looked puzzled. “Two reasons. One, there is a late policy for this class, which requires you to ask 12 hours ahead of the due date for an extension. You didn’t follow it. Two, you were just very disrespectful in class. And that adds up to a NO.”

And there I am. I know I need to do something to change things, one of which is to start expecting things like this to happen so that they don’t rankle me as much. I also have to figure out how to reeducate this group. I never expected to have to go through this with a graduate class; that’s certainly one of the challenges — I am fighting my own frame of reference as well as dealing with the behavior.

When I am geocaching and can’t find a cache, it is often because I am functionally fixed on how I think the cache should be hidden. This causes me to be blind to however it actually is hidden. When I am in that state, I know I need to think differently, but the problem is, I don’t know how. Sometimes it takes several trips back to a place before I have the insight. Sometimes I’ve had to get some help from someone else to show me the hiding spot to break me out of the fixed thinking patterns. I feel like that is exactly where I am at with this class right now.

Starting over and making mistakes

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I really thought I’d mostly had the teaching gig figured out when I was at TAMU.

Then I come somewhere new, and man, I am back at square one again.

It has been a frustrating and difficult quarter.

I have made so many mistakes. I didn’t assess what my students already knew. I found I had many assumptions about what they knew that were not true. I had many assumptions about how classes like the ones I am teaching were structured that were not true. I had assumptions about the advice I was given that were not true.

And this has all hurt my students and me, much to my frustration.

Still. I have managed to turn things around in my calculus classes. I am doing a lot better at knowing what to do and how to do it, and how to reach these students. I am still worried that I did them a big disservice at the beginning of the quarter, but there isn’t anything I can do about that now. Or, rather, I have been doing what I can in consistently assigning review problems on that material, so that it wouldn’t get forgotten, and might be improved. (I think there are some problems that I have assigned 2 or three times now … they should be getting better at those … right? 🙂 )

One consistent source of extreme frustration for me has been my graduate class. It is small. And the aura of bad attitude (mine and theirs) has come to permeate that class. I don’t want to go, and I arrive in our classroom with only a few minutes to spare. I notice that students are consistently late. Students don’t take notes (and haven’t from the first — easier to take pictures of the board when I was using the whiteboard; now I use a tablet), and I’ve even had several borrowing pencils in class when I have asked them to do something. The homework is too hard, and it takes too long to do. Etc. etc.

I know that me being negative isn’t going to turn this around, but oh my gosh, am I ever having a problem not going straight into anger and sarcasm. WTF, students, coming to class without a pencil and not fixing that problem right at the beginning? WTF, not taking notes? I’m not wondering why you are having difficulties retaining then information later, and even the recollection that the information was discussed.

I know their expectations of graduate school are probably also being challenged, just as my expectation of graduate students are being challenged. It’s not a continuation of undergrad. There are hard things to be done, and faculty expect that you are going to suck it up and get it done. If you are missing pieces that you need to succeed in a class, well, you are responsible for finding them out and getting the help you need. Or to go back and take a prerequisite course and then take the class over. We expect you to start your work early enough to come ask us questions if you are confused or cannot do it. And we don’t expect you to be pestering us late in the day it is due or insisting that we have to help you because something is due this day.

I dread having to teach that group again next quarter, but there it is. I have to. And so I have to work on figuring out how to help us all get happier. I have to also think about teaching this class in future quarters and how better to prepare students for the rigors ahead.

Meanwhile, I’m tired. The 5 day a week teaching thing has its advantages, but it also has its downsides. I never feel quite ready for what comes next. I know I will get through this. I know it will get easier. But here and now, it’s tough and I am frustrated.

That said, one thing I am glad of. And that is that I made time to write tonight.

Getting Started

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Second day of class today. We got down to mathematical business in the multivariate calculus class. The first class talked to each other and me, but the second class was a lot of silence. Gotta work on that. I feel like I’ve given them things to do and think about (including in class) and that’s what I want.

In the graduate numerical methods class, we had our first work day. The students have my standard LaTeX assignment to work through. They were new LaTeX, and I was new to the computer lab… it didn’t go completely smoothly, but it went. I’m worried that students will start working on documents in the lab and then not be able to get their documents off the computer later, but, ultimately, that’s not my problem.

We’ll talk about it tomorrow. As expected my computer scientists, one the most part, took to LaTeX like ducks take to water.

I’m not completely ready for what I need to teach tomorrow yet, but I’m not far off. And, as of tomorrow at 2 pm, my third day is through, and I am off to a good start.

I am worried about everything that October is going to bring. I have to have a 30 minute talk ready (I *thought* somehow it would be 15!) for the weekend of October 11, and I have to have a 40 minute talk on another topic ready for Oct 28. Somehow it will all get done, right?

At least that’s what I keep telling myself. One small step at a time.

Assistant Professor

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First day of class. First day of class on the tenure track. First day of class doing something that, for a while, I wasn’t sure I dared dream I could do.

I don’t know for sure what will stick in memory from this day or from this quarter, but I know there will be things that will stick because of the ephemeral sweetness of a first time doing something.

I know that some things will go well and others poorly, but I will improve from here. Right now I am still acclimatizing to this place, to this culture, and trying to figure out what I need to do.

I didn’t do much math today; mostly I tried to start the foundation of a classroom culture that is warm and accepting, supportive, hardworking, where everyone can have a voice if she or he wants.

The one fun math thing I did was in the numerical methods class for the master’s students. I said epsilon > 0. True or false, 1+epsilon > 1. And we voted. Everyone voted for true. Including me. And I voted for false too. And then explained that for a mathematician the statement is obviously and trivially true. But not so on a computer. I pulled up Python and did a demo to show. And that’s to some extent what the class is about. How and why do computers make mathematical errors and what can we do to avoid them?

And onward from here. Today 3 classes taught. Tomorrow, 9 am, my 4th class taught at my new school.

Being the Bad Guy

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So I was the bad guy today. Last week’s bike ride was fun, but resulted in about a half hour or maybe even 40 minutes of five of us riding in the dark, where two of us had full sets of lights, two had taillights, and one had nothing. The time before that with this group, we had a flat and got back into the dusk, and I recall that I either turned on my lights or wished I had them with me.

My experience with the other group, the mountain bikers, has been that we haven’t yet gotten back before dark resulting in some fairly scary rides for me.

So for tonight’s ride, I commented that everyone should bring lights, or buy lights, or let me know and I can bring an extra set for them.

Reply: we’ll be back before dark.

My reply: yeah, but one flat tire or person not going fast enough and you are out after dark.

It was clear I stepped on some toes.

Part of me feels bad about that; we did get back before dark tonight. But part of me says hey, c’mon, bringing lights when we are quickly running out of daylight is just a sensible idea. People make mistakes. People get flats. And asking participants on a ride to wear a helmet or bring lights just in case is not an unreasonable burden, even if your plan is to be back in time.

I know I’m just the newbie here, and so I don’t get credit for 12 years experience of leading my own rides. No one knows or cares what a League Cycling Instructor is and using the credential to bolster the argument is arguing from authority, which isn’t right either. That frustrates me. It also frustrates me to see the rejection of sensibility in mitigating risk. We might get delayed beyond what we expect. So we prepare for the eventuality.

So internally there is the discomfort between not being the bad guy, and knowing that it is my belief that yes, I am willing to be the bad guy on this issue. It’s not a nice place to sit. While I hope I am constantly learning wisdom on how best to handle people in these situations, I hope I am also willing to state what someone or no one wants to hear when it is the truth, and it matters.

Loneliness

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I’ve been here for over a month now, and on the most part, it has been a good time. But after the business of MathFest wore off, and some of the novelty as well, I find myself struggling more with loneliness.

I’ve been doing a good job of getting out to meet people. It just takes time.

I knew before I moved that a period like this would happen. At least, with classes starting soon, I have lots to do. I don’t have a lot of time to mope.

What’s the recipe here? Keep getting out and doing things. Good books. Reach out to people. Accept that there will be unhappy days. Keep doing things; don’t let sadness cause paralysis.

Count some blessings too: it is easier to be here than it was to get packed up to leave. That was hard, and sad to leave my community behind. There is a ton of interesting stuff I want to do here. Sure it would be nicer with a friend or two, but it is still great solo. There is a ton of opportunity here for me. I just have to make the most of it. Which means getting my work done and keep making progress, even if it seems slow. It is really beautiful here. I can’t get enough of the view. I did it; I applied for the jobs and I made the change. That was more than what I thought I could do a year ago.

Hurts

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At some point yesterday, I realized my fall off the bike on Wednesday left me with more hurts (hip, shoulder) than just a bruise. Nothing that a short amount of time won’t fix, but I do hurt. Maybe that helps explain why that fall left me so shaky and upset at the time.

I’m feeling unmotivated to go out and do much in the way of exercise — or much of anything at all. That, in turn, makes me feel guilty for wasting some beautiful days here when I could be out exploring.

I realized that I’m also feeling lonely. I’m doing a good job of getting out there and meeting people, but just acquaintances, no friends yet. Friendships take time to develop. Having someone else eager to go on an adventure would probably get me out there. I could have gone on a bike ride with the road group this morning — but they don’t really know me yet. I wouldn’t be missed. Back home — okay, not home anymore, my old home — I was the one who organized the rides. I bloody well showed up, whether I felt like it or not, or I would be missed.

Soon after typing this, I need to pull myself together enough to go explore the local farmer’s market. Walk around a bit in the sun, and stop feeling quite so sorry for myself. Even if that hip does hurt. Maybe it will loosen up some if I walk. While I am walking I can consider whether I want to drive out somewhere this afternoon to explore, or take care of getting more of my things set-up or doing an overdue chore in my new apartment home. I need to do something other than sit and mope. Because that’s not doing anyone, most especially me, a whole lot of good.

Identity

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Before I left Spokane, my friend said to me that he hadn’t realized how much of his identity was tied up with his wife. When she passed away, and as he’s dealt with his grief, he’s had to examine his concept of who he is and what he wants. This is no easy task.

I don’t know that I said much in reply aside from offering sympathy. I won’t claim to be an expert at this one, nor have I had a major grief, like his, to deal with.

Every time I’ve had a relationship end (my, I’ve had a lot more of these than I ever wanted to), I have had to adjust my sense of self. It is easier because I’ve spent a lot of time alone — then I know who I am when no one else is around, and I am mostly returning to this after a relationship ends.

What’s been harder for me is letting go of the things I wanted to be, but will never become. The one that hurts the most is that I will never be a parent. If I can’t find the husband, it makes it hard to have the child. I was never willing to go at that solo. Eventually, I got too old. 45 is pretty definitive. There are days when 45 is pretty hard to take.

There’s all the self-questioning that I can’t quite stop. I should have gone further into online dating. Sooner. Many boyfriends I should have broken up with sooner. I should have dropped the hard shell of defensiveness from my childhood sooner, and softened up. I should have been wiser about people, as if I could have just had the realization that when other people treated me poorly that this is not a reflection on my worth sooner.

We can regret, but we cannot change the past. We can only go on from here.

When we depart from the standard story, or any story we’ve told ourselves for a long time, it takes adjustment. I’m still trying to figure out who I am, as a 45 year old woman, aging more quickly than I’d like, without a family, without a significant other, with an anxiety problem that is fortunately not troubling me much at the moment, and, right now, in a new place without any friends or close friends to lean on.

We need more stories for women. More for men too, but I know less about that. I have female friends who are childless and happy with that, but I can’t think of many stories where that is the outcome for women. It never was an option in any of my happily ever afters. So I have no view of what this should be, even looking at my friends and trying to see through their eyes.

The only thing I’ve figured out is that you have to concentrate on the love you can give, not on the love you wished to receive. That is the path to happiness, but it is not easy to travel it.

One thing I hope is that I find honor and integrity, grace, generosity and kindness, warmth and caring, and lots of love freely given to others in who I am, whoever that may be.

Solo Camping

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I remember the last time I camped alone in this tent. At least, I think it was the last time.

I camped at Colorado Bend State Park in Texas, in May, with the intent of doing a bike ride the next day. Before heading out, I stopped in Austin and I had lunch with my Ph.D. advisor.

We talked about many things; my unhappiness with my job, desire to try teaching. He said something insensitive; he’s infamous for being oblivious.

I asked about a professor who was my terror when I was working on my doctorate; a man who was known for pawing his female students, with the stereotypical black leather sofa in his office, who always wanted to shut the door and sit next to you on the sofa. Hella no, I opened his door wide, and I pulled over the hard wooden chair, but when it was time for my defense, I was worried that one would make trouble for me.

My advisor said he had no idea what I could be talking about when I said I thought that professor was creepy. All he could recall was that Prof. Creepy wanted to hire some unsatisfactory job candidates. I remember a lull or change in our conversation, broken perhaps 10 minutes later, when my advisor told me about Professor Creepy’s nuclear divorce when he, indeed, ran off with one of his female students, leaving his wife and kids high and dry. Professor Creepy went on to become the department chair at another august institution; I can’t imagine they found his performance satisfactory. I also don’t think my advisor connected his story to my comments, though I am certain that my comment connected some subconscious dots, bringing forth the story.

What I remember most about the camping is the explosive tears, the incredible feeling of being lost, of being stuck, of not being good enough and having no way to ever be good enough. Deep, deep, deep shame for being who I was, with only my abilities.

With little sleep, I didn’t go to the bike ride the next day.

There was mountain biking in the park, but after getting up and getting together, I ended up on a hiking rather than a biking trail. My frustration peaked.

It was unseasonably hot, and the campground had no showers. I swam a bit to clean up, but in the end, I just packed up and went home early, running away from that moment, that vision of myself, that truth.

I didn’t interact with my advisor again for 7-9 more years.

It was quite a few years before I came back to that park, newly in love with my then-companion. I remember a magical hike we had as we got lost trying to find a geocache. I have the pictures, and that happy memory.

Today, I find myself again alone in this tent. I am not thinking about trying teaching any more; I will start a tenure track position in the fall. If I had known what success I would have as a teacher, I might have started on this path sooner.

In the ensuing years, I have had deep disappointments, and I have had moments of great joy. Part of me is very very sad for the painful moments, and also angry for this part of my past. Part of me is deeply deeply grateful to be here, now, in this moment.